


May I?

by TrenchcoatBaby, WaywardAF67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apologies, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Coda, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Episode: s15e09 The Trap - Dean Winchester's Prayer Scene, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Porn with Feelings, Purgatory, Purgatory Sex, Season/Series 15, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatBaby/pseuds/TrenchcoatBaby, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardAF67/pseuds/WaywardAF67
Summary: Dean and Castiel never expected to return here, not together, not after everything that’s happened. But here they are—the clock running down and a psychotic god on the loose, and nothing to hang onto but each other. As memories of their first time in Purgatory begin to resurface, Dean realizes that it’s time to be honest with his best friend for the first time ever.That is, if they can survive the sexual tension mounting between them…
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 52
Kudos: 483





	May I?

**Author's Note:**

> Evening loves! TrenchcoatBaby here! 
> 
> So my sweet WaywardAF67 is a coda writin' canon master, but I usually spend more time writing AUs. But after this week's episode—The Destiel Episode of the Era—I couldn't help but let my imagination wander. So here's our interpretation, with gratuitous amounts of smut of course, because who am I if I'm _not_ giving these boys a happy ending?
> 
> Endless love to our speedy little beta babes, [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz) and [Lorelei2005](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lorelei2005/pseuds/Lorelei2005).

_After Dean finds Castiel in Purgatory, squatting next to a river in a rare moment of reprieve, the words begin to haunt him._

_“I need you.”_

_“I’m not leaving here without you.”_

_“I prayed to you, Cas, every night.”_

_Had he said too much? Had he laid all his cards on the table because he was too exhausted, or relieved, or upset? Dean couldn’t believe he had been so vulnerable, so honest._

_Now, hours later and still stuck in this godforsaken monster dump of a dimension, he leans against an oversized tree. As the only human in their bizarre little trio, he’s trying to catch at least an hour or two of sleep before they start looking for the portal. Benny’s keeping guard on the other side of the trees while Dean rests. But with Castiel finally beside him again, the solid warmth of his shoulder brushing against Dean’s forearm, sleep seems like an impossible task._

_“Dean,” Castiel mutters, his voice a gruff rumble that makes Dean shiver. They’re sitting together closely, far more closely than he usually sits with Benny, but he can’t bring himself to move away. If he had to justify it, he would say it was for the warmth. It has nothing to do with the comfort flooding his chest or the heat burning low in his belly._

_“Yeah?” Dean rumbles out, peeking an eye open to look at the angel. He’s so different here, Dean almost didn’t recognize him. In Purgatory Cas’ facial hair is dark and wild, his hair messy, his trenchcoat dirty and torn from too many fights. Dean misses the image of Cas he has in his head…clean-cut, freshly shaved, tie on backwards. But this side of Castiel isn’t totally unwelcome, either. It’s raw and startling, like anything could happen out here._

_“You’re shaking,” Castiel notes, like it bothers him somehow. Dean fights the urge to roll his eyes—guy abandons you for nearly a year on some martyr mission, then pretends to care? Sure, he had been trying to keep Dean safe, but didn’t he know by now that they’re stronger together?_

_“S’fine,” Dean mumbles, crossing his arms. He can’t believe he finally did it—after being ditched the moment they touched ground at Purgatory, here Dean is, reunited with his closest friend. Castiel doesn’t seem to understand the pain, the grief it caused Dean to be separated from him for so long. Sure, Benny proved to be a good friend and solid ally, but him and Cas have more than that…_

_So, yeah, they could have fought the leviathans off together—hell, they had done that for months when they were topside. Why would now be any different?_

_“You’re still upset.” Castiel’s voice cuts through the thoughts swirling in Dean’s head, and he can’t help it—he snorts._

_“No shit,” he says._

_There’s a pause, a deep sigh, and Castiel whispers, “Dean, this was never about you.”_

_That makes both of Dean’s eyes open wide, any potential sleep abandoned. “You left me in goddamn monsterland USA, in the middle of a fight, and this isn’t about me? Seriously, Cas?”_

_“I needed to—”_

_“You didn’t need to do a damn thing but stay with me,” he snaps, the blood in his veins pumping, heart racing. He can tell Castiel isn’t settled, that he won’t give up whatever fucked-up interpretation of what’s happened that’s implanted in his head. In a way, Dean expected that. He knows Cas better than anyone, is the one who cares about him most in the world. Even though he hoped that they had simply gotten separated during the fight, deep down, a part of him wondered if Cas had left him intentionally. Maybe he was tired of Dean—his anger, his doubts. Hell, maybe he was tired of the way Dean’s eyes seem to linger a moment too long on his lips, and how he leans too much into his touch. Dean hasn’t exactly been subtle all these years._

_Still, he knows Cas…at least, he thought it did. Because when he feels a hand behind his head, long fingers threading through the matted mess of his hair, he’s startled. Castiel pauses, as if he’s expecting Dean to protest, to pull away. But Dean doesn’t, he couldn’t—he’s thought about this moment a hundred times, imagined all the places this could finally happen. A motel. The Impala. In the middle of a hunt._

_Nowhere in his imagination could he have conjured up a place as fucked-up as Purgatory for their first kiss. But it’s fitting somehow, as beaten and broken as they are, and when Castiel’s lips brush his for the first time—dry and closed and eager—Purgatory suddenly seems…tolerable. Because Cas is here again, and they’re kissing, and when the angel pulls away looking guilty and awkward as hell, Dean grabs him by the lapels and their mouths collide again._

_They shuffle around each other—hands on backs, on arms, on every inch of nearby space and skin being touched. Dean’s brain is firing on all cylinders, his subscious freaking the fuck out because—Jesus Christ, this is Cas! He’s making out with Cas!_

_His tongue prods gently at the entrance of Castiel’s lips and the angel opens up easily, as if he’s been waiting for it, and Dean growls when Cas sucks on the tip of his tongue. Dean bites Cas’ lip almost angrily, all his pent up frustration pouring out, and clings to him desperately. The kiss is messy and feral and absolutely perfect, exactly what Dean needed to make this year in Purgatory add up to something._

_He only pulls away for air when he feels a hand traveling from his thigh, to his crotch, cupping his half-hard cock that’s pressed against the zipper. Dean groans, the lust coursing through him sudden and overwhelming. When their foreheads meet, he gasps out, “Cas…”_

_“May I?” Cas asks, voice deep and husky. He might’ve been asking for Dean to pass him a pot of tea or some shit, the way the request is so politely phrased. Even so, every part of this has Dean feeling absolutely wrecked, and he just nods until Cas’ hands begin to work. He unzips Dean’s filthy, tattered jeans and slips his hand beneath the boxers, rubbing his dick hard and dry. Dean cries out from the immediate pleasure, the back of his head hitting the tree so abruptly that he scrapes it on some bark. He might even be bleeding, but fuck, who cares when Cas is stroking him, his thumb circling the slit of his dick as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever touched. He kisses Dean’s chin before trailing down lower, to his neck, sucking on a spot with such intensity that Dean whines a little. God, he’s getting a handjob from his best friend in the middle of dangerous fucking monster dimension with a vampire ten yards away, probably silently judging the hell out of them. It feels so good that Dean can’t make himself care._

_When he’s on the brink of coming, his balls tightening, skin flushed with heat, he finds Cas’ lips again. He moans into the angel’s mouth, frantic and bursting with want, the need to come so strong that he realizes it’s his first orgasm in months. It’s ripped from him by Castiel’s unrelenting grip, and Dean buries his head against the crook of Castiel’s neck and fights back a sob._

_When he returns for air, Cas is using a patch of nearby grass to wipe Dean’s come off his hand. Then he turns his attention back to Dean, his eyes with an emotion that Dean doesn’t want to face, not now, not here. “Dean…”_

_“Don’t,” Dean says, his voice a rumble. Acknowledging what just happened between them means too much, and is too important for a conversation in this goddamn hell hole. “Tomorrow, when we get back, okay? We’ll talk then.”_

_Castiel doesn’t respond, just opens his arms wide and draws Dean to his chest. Dean falls asleep, feeling truly safe for the first time since arriving in Purgatory, his head filled with hope that tomorrow is the day they finally return._

Dean groans as he opens his eyes, his head spinning. Jesus, that bat to the head had hurt like a motherfucker. He winces, and it takes him a moment for everything to come back to him: Chuck, Sam and Eileen kidnapped at some stupid casino, the blossom—

“No,” he groans, the blossom stem black and vacant. He had been passed out and dreaming, he’s sure of it now. Though…can you call a memory a dream? 

“Cas?” he asks, a little softly at first. Then he stands up, rubbing the back of his pounding head. “Cas?”

He wanders through the trees, worried and desperate, his chest aching as he thinks about Purgatory, about Cas, about the last time they were here together. He still feels a pang of emotion when he thinks about all those years ago—Castiel pushing him away at the portal, punishing himself because of some bullshit, self-sacrificing reasons. And when he had finally returned, Dean had been too angry and hurt to do anything but want to punch his lights out. And even though they’d gotten past that and had a half-dozen more ups and downs over the years, they had never shared that same intimacy again—not like they did on their last night together in Purgatory.

The timer on his phone keeps counting down as he searches for Cas. Jesus, they’re running out of fucking time. Something about being back at this place makes him feel exposed, like all his emotions are electric, buzzing beneath his skin. He’s so tired of fighting with Cas, but he’s not sure how to stop—how to swallow his pride and admit that he was wrong for blaming Cas for every bad thing that’s happened to him lately. 

“Cas…” He leans against a nearby tree, feeling his resolve begin to break. He’s gotta do this, he’s gotta be honest with Cas—shit, the clock just keeps running. What if it’s his last chance to ever tell him…? “Cas, I hope you can hear me.”

He takes in a shuddering breath and whispers, “Hey, wherever you are, it’s not too late.” _For us to repair this damage between us…for us to go back home. Together._ “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend but I just let you go, because that was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

Dean feels the corners of his eyes begin to prickle, wet with tears. He falls to his knees, feeling defeated for a moment, wanting more than anything for his angel to return. God, he’s so fucked up. Why Cas even bothers hanging around him sometimes is a goddamn mystery. 

“I dunno why I get so angry. I just know that it’s—it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just comes out…and I–I can’t stop it, no matter how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

He’s babbling now, he knows that, but aren’t prayers supposed to be a stream of consciousness? He closes his eyes, gearing himself up for the hardest thing he’s yet to say. “And I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long…I’m sorry it took me till now to say it.” Fuck, what if he’s dead? What if Dean’s last words to one of the most important people in his life are fading away into the air, never to be heard by anyone?

“Cas, I’m so sorry,” he cries softly, hands on his temples, trembling. “Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me…” _And I hope you know I love you. I have for years, Cas, ever since Purgatory. I loved you then and I never stopped._

He brings himself back to a standing position, feeling weakened and dazed by all the admissions he’s just let out. Of course, even if Cas does hear his prayer, he won’t know everything Dean’s thought in his head—he’ll just know what Dean has spoken aloud to him, the apology of a best friend rather than the desperate pleas of a one-time lover. 

Without anything else to do, he begins to head towards the rift again. He’s worried about Sam and Eileen alone with Chuck—who knows what kind of torture the ominscient fucking pyscho of the universe is up to. But right now he’s equally worried about Cas, because the idea of getting separated again in this fucking place and abandoning Cas to the monsters makes him sick to his stomach. 

There’s two minutes to go on the clock, and his hands shake, the gun in his hand swinging as he walks. He can’t do this again, he can’t leave Cas, he can’t, he can’t, he—

“Dean?”

He wipes his gun around on instinct, swiveling to a figure leaned against the tree. Dark brown hair, long tan trench coat, messy tie—

_Cas._

***

Cas feels his skin flush as someone moans his name. He’s walking with a group of leviathan when a bolt of adrenaline rushes through him. It almost feels like arousal, and though Purgatory has made several appearances in his fantasies, he’s not sure his current situation warrants the swelling he feels underneath his trousers. In the back of his mind he hears himself say “ _May I?_ ” And slowly starts to realize what’s happening. 

Dean, who’s still laying in the middle of the angel trap while Cas gets carted off to Eve, must be remembering their time together here. He’s felt Dean have this dream before, and he can feel his friend’s longing anywhere—even from across the country. Most times he’ll do all he can to shut it out and give Dean his privacy, but now he stays with Dean in the dream, if memory can be considered a dream. It was the only time he’s ever been allowed to touch Dean like that and it’s something he remembers well. He just wishes he wasn’t surrounded by Chuck’s lamest creation being carted off to pay for his crime against the Mother of all Evil, so he could take a moment and enjoy the memory. 

Five leviathan...it took five of them to restrain Cas and drag him out of that angel trap. He screamed Dean’s name, but the hunter lay on his side, out cold. The monsters held him down and bound his hands out in front of him before hauling him to his feet and shoving him forward. 

Eve wanted him, so if he just goes to her then Dean can find the blossom and get back to Sam. It’s not the choice he would have made…he was serious when he told Dean he didn’t want to leave his side—not here, not again. Last time he choose to stay here it was when he needed to do his penance. But now he’s going to be stuck here when it’s the last thing he wants. 

Jack was gone. God—his creator, his soul purpose for living, until he met the Winchesters—had gone off the deep end. And there seems to be no way to reconcile his relationship with Dean. It feels like there's nothing left to keep fighting for. He wants to let himself go limp, drop down in the mud and let them carry him off to Eve. But that’s not who he is. By nature he’s a fighter—it seems to be the only part of being an angel that he ever got right. 

He’s staring down the barrel of the Empty’s gun anyway—it’s either now, next month, or a year from now, before the entity snaches him up and carries him off to the literal long sleep of death. The idea seems almost peaceful…he’ll just go to sleep and all the suffering will stop. It sounds so tantalizing he has to stop and ask himself again, _what’s the point?_

As they make their way across the bleak landscape Cas wonders if the Empty still wants him. Surely Jack is there now…would that have let him out of his contract? Ever since he woke the entity up, he seems to have it out for Cas, so it’s likely there’s nothing he could do to spare himself the fate. 

Castiel feels the moment Dean wakes up, an intense burst of longing coursing through him, and can feel the hunter’s panic. It wasn’t the first time he wished prayer could go both ways, but it was the strongest he’d ever tried to send a message back to Dean. 

_I’m okay. Find the blossom. Save yourself, get home, and save the world—just like you always do._

Dean wouldn’t hear it, but it’s something Cas needed to say. Something he did often, actually. Prayer is complicated for humans, much less intentional than they assume. Sometimes they long for someone or something on such a deep level that the soul would reach out to the Host, begging for the need to come to fruition. This was something Dean never understood. Likely, because Cas never told him. He needed to feel the yearning within his best friend. It’s how he knew Dean was okay. Longing to save Sam, longing for a cold beer or good burger, and on very rare nights, when they were separated and out of communication, Cas could feel Dean’s longing for him. 

That isn’t what he feels now—the ache of loneliness he often felt. What Dean is sending out to him is desperation. A need for Cas he hasn’t felt in a very long time, not since the last time they were here. There's something about this place that makes Dean more open, more vulnerable than he is back in his own world. 

_Cas, I hope you can hear me..._

It sounds so much like the prayers he heard every night as he ran, keeping the Leviathan occupied and leaving Dean room to fight off whatever else he came across. It sparked something new in Cas, that if they could overcome it—what happened in Purgatory last time and what happened after—then they could get through this. It would take time, and so much effort, but Cas would forgive and move on. All Dean had to do was ask. The open hostility had died down, making the necessary conversations easier. It wasn’t even close to their normal friendship, but it felt like a start. 

With renewed vigor, Cas starts to struggle with the binding around his wrists. He had assumed they were angel-proof—what kind of morons just use rope to tie up an angel? But as Cas checks his grace, he notices it's just a simple twine and polyester blend. Maybe they were arrogant, and just assumed that with his hands tied they could stop him if he decided to fight back. Which would have been the case…were he not loaded down with several syringes full of Borax. 

_I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend but I just let you go, because that was easier than admitting I was wrong._

When Cas lays eyes on the blossom he wonders if this isn’t another trick from Chuck. What are the chances that they would walk right past one? He’s tempted to say it’s a miracle, but he knows better. Unless this is just one more episode in the _Winchesters Vs. Evil_ show, but that’s not a though to focus on now. 

_I dunno why I get so angry. I just know that it’s—it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just comes out…and I–I can’t stop it, no matter how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it._

Dean’s words fill his mind as he scrambles for a plan. He doesn’t know what to do, but figures he has to try. If they get too far away from the blossom he might not be able to back track and find it. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking, but he knows time is running out. 

Without any real plan, Cas stops dead in his tracks. Four of the five leviathans walk ahead of him and one brings up the rear. She seems to be the only one to notice Cas’ sudden detour. 

“Keep it moving, cupid,” she barks, jabbing him in the back with a makeshift weapon. He’s pretty sure the spikes on the end of her club are the claws from a Wendigo. 

_And I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long…I’m sorry it took me till now to say it._

Time is a human construct, and because he’s an angel in the land of abominations, things seem to move slower for him. His heart explodes with love, fear, and regret, hearing Dean’s apology. He won't let this be his last stop. The empty is not getting him today. Dean is sorry, Sam’s in trouble, and the world is still ending. He cannot give up. 

The first one is easy to kill. The four keep walking, still not noticing the distance they’re putting between themselves. Now that he knows the restraints aren’t keeping him in, he pushes his grace down to his wrists and melts the rope away. 

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Your feet stop working?” 

With his back still to his captor, Cas slowly slides his hand in his trenchcoat. His fingers wrap around the syringe, as he places his thumb on the plunger. In one quick motion, he turns and jabs the needle into the leviathan’s neck. A putrid yellow smoke bellows out of the monster’s chest as she crumples to the ground. Gasping, she chokes out a cry to the others. 

There isn’t enough time for Cas to deal with them, so he runs for the blossom. As long as he’s by the flower, has it in sight, he can deal with the other monsters. His grace isn’t at full capacity, but he has enough to smite the first two that charge for him. He can feel himself growing weak and pulls his grace back. Three leviathan against one angel and a little run-of-the-mill kitchen cleaner. 

Cas can conjure the sound of Dean’s voice. _I like those odds._

There’s just enough time for him to grab two syringes. Hurriedly he tucks one between his teeth and palms the other before the hoard is on him. He throws his arm out wildly, and has to stop himself from thanking God when he feels the needle push through flesh. 

The body drops, and the stench of decay is all around him as something clocks him against his right temple. He feels like there should be stars floating around his head as he staggers back. The biggest, toothiest monster pounces at him and his foot catches on the blossom, sending him sprawling back. He feels the tough skin of the plant rub against his ankle where his pants hike up, and he lets go and prays that the nectar isn’t seeping all over the ground as he’s being mobbed by leviathan. They’re all around him and he reaches down deep, gripping at what’s left of his grace. He doesn’t have much mojo, but he has enough to try. 

_Cas, I’m so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me…_

Saliva drips around his neck as he uses all his strength to hold one back. His grace blasted the other two away, but it did no damage. They were already back on their feet and charging forward. With no grace left, Cas feels no hope for his situation. He needs to get back to Dean, but if he takes his hand off this beast he’ll lose the battle of strength and his entire throat would be ripped out in one bite. For all the times he’s died, all the times he has sacrificed himself for Dean or Sam or the world, he always had hope he’d come back. Chuck always sent him back. He had work to do, and as long as the Winchesters were still kicking, Chuck kept bringing him back—setting him right there next to Dean. So he can’t die here, not like this, not without first telling Dean how much he means to him. He’d said it once, that day in the barn, so it’s only fitting that he say it again as he waits for death. 

_Dean, I love you. You’re the best man I know and it was an honor to be part of your family. I just wish I’d told you more. You deserved to know how loved you are._

Pain blooms in his chest as he feels Dean’s heart clench. For one hysterical moment, Cas wonders if all the cheeseburgers finally caught up to Dean’s having the most inconvenient heart attack ever. But he feels a vibration, almost an echo of a voice calling out to him. He’s never felt this from Dean before and can’t help but worry about what’s happening to his friend. 

The momentary distraction is enough to break Castiel’s focus, and the leviathan momentarily overpowers him. He feels teeth graze across his neck.

_And I hope you know I love you. I have for years, Cas, ever since Purgatory. I loved you then and I never stopped._

The humming in his chest spreads and he feels a surge of grace pooling behind his ribs. Dean loves him. Has loved him since the last time they were there. It’s enough to lift his spirits, though he’s never heard of love regenerating an angel's grace before. He imagines this is something only Anna would know about.

It’s a sad moment when he realizes he doesn’t have time to analyze that. Dean isn’t getting out of telling him he loves him in person, and these scumbag monsters are in his way. 

Being in a vessel took a lot of self-control. He has to watch his volume, use the throat muscles to talk instead of his real voice. He has to make himself microscopic to fit inside of Jimmy. He wishes he could say he’s about to burst at the seams because the man he loves actually loves him back, but the truth is, if he lets go and allows his true form to show through, that should be enough to smite the human Venus flytraps. 

He’s up and running, clutching the damn flower to his chest. It smells like rotting flesh, and if he wasn’t so focused on getting to Dean he would use his grace to cut off his senses, but the only though he’s capable of is running. _Dean, home, us._

He almost feels like he’s flying he’s moving so fast, and he’s not sure where the extra strength is coming from but he’s thankful. He’s sure Dean’s love confession has something to do with it—perhaps his soul and Cas’ grace are tied. Even though Dean doesn’t wear a physical mark on his shoulder anymore, his soul still carries the brand. Souls burn hotter, brighter and more vibrant when they are filled with love. Dean has always had so much love to give swirling around inside of him. As the rift appears in his line of sight, Cas wonders if having somewhere for all that love to focus is why he received the turbo boost to his grace. 

The rift is shimmering, and relief floods Cas as he approaches. Now he just has to wait. He can feel Dean getting closer, and though the portal is shrinking by the second, Cas has faith that they’ll make it. He supposes he hasn’t put his faith into God since that day in the park after the Winchesters stopped their first seal from breaking. He admitted his doubts back then, and speaking those words into existence shifted something in Cas. For a millennia he followed orders without question. He saw wrong, unjust things, happen all around him but kept faith that God had a plan…even angels were fed that bullshit line. But time and time again Dean proved to be the one taking on humanity. He was the savior of the human race, and Cas finally let himself have faith again. He has faith in Dean, in himself, in the ability for them to work together to stop God. They are going to save the world. And as soon as that's over, he's going back to his room to have a moment alone with Dean’s dream from earlier. It's been less than an hour since then, but it feels like a lifetime. 

The crunch of boots makes him stiffen, and he pulls out his last syringe of Borax. If it’s not Dean he’s probably going to miss his ride back to earth because of the fight, but he’s not sure it would matter. He’s not going back without his friend—no one is getting left behind this time. 

He’s crouched down, leaning back against the tree waiting to see who walks past him. If it’s a leviathan, he hopes the element of surprise will be enough, and he can dose the creep before he ends up in another hand to hand combat. Instead, he feels a steady thrum of grace and he knows it has to be—

“Dean,” he calls out, stepping over a root trying to get closer to his friend. Dean turns on him and points the gun right at his heart before he’s lowering the weapon. Pain, sorrow—and what Cas thinks is hope—flicker across Dean’s face as he rushes forward. His arms are reaching out, and Cas gladly steps into them. 

“Cas.” Dean chokes back a sob. He’s holding Cas as tightly as Cas is clinging to him, and they stay that way for a few beats longer than is customary for them. Both unwilling to let go, they savor the moment of forgiveness for just a while longer. 

Dean asks what happened and Cas explains how he got away before they got him to Eve, but he doesn’t mention Dean’s prayer. It’s something he wants to talk about, but they are pressed for time and he’s ready to get back home. He’s riding a high from the adrenaline of a fight, and the low hum of his grace. It’s already fading, letting him know it was just a temporary boost, but the way Dean looks at him with such pride when he tells him _you did it_ makes him feel fully powered. 

“Well they’re still after me, so we should hurry,” Cas says, nodding his head to the fading rift and wishing there was time to say what needed to be said. 

Dean looks around to see if there is anyone around them, and Cas wants to tell him they are safe, that it’s just them and it always will be. He wants to rush over to Dean and comfort the concern right off his face, but there just isn’t time. Dean looks so pained and he wants to hear all about it, and he will, once they are on the other side. 

“Okay, Cas I need to say something.” 

No. This isn’t going to be it. He’s not going to let Dean say this here. He is not about to let what happens in Purgatory stay here. If Dean wants to tell Cas he loves him out loud he can do it at home. Purgatory isn’t getting that memory too. 

“You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer,” Cas says. Dean doesn’t say anything, he looks like he wants to, but instead, he stares at Cas for several long moments. Dean’s need leaves him aching inside, but there will be time for that later. Right now they have a world to save. 

***

Dean grips the steering wheel of the Impala, noticing how white his knuckles are beneath all the grime. He still can’t quite comprehend everything that’s happened the last few hours—leaving Purgatory, following Michael’s spell and assembling the sphere, driving hours into the night before reaching the casino. They had survived another run-in with Chuck, but just barely. The ruler of the goddamn universe considers them his puppets, and all Dean can do is swallow down a whole list of accusations he wants to fling in Sam’s direction. After everything that’s happened, how could he have hesitated? What could Chuck have shown him that was so terrible? At least Sam’s wound is healed…even if Chuck had to crush Sam’s sense of hope just to achieve that. He’ll bounce back. Sam always does. 

For now they’re all silent, Sam and Eileen in the backseat, their clothes streaked in blood. Cas rides shotgun looking grim and somber, not saying a word as Dean pulls into a rundown motel. 

“Dean…?” Sam asks timidly, as Dean cuts the engine. 

“We’ll stop here,” he announces, throwing his door open and shutting it with a final thud. He goes to the front desk and gets two rooms, and Sam takes one of the keys gratefully—still looking disheartened and guilty—and locks eyes with Eileen. Dean’s almost sure his brother hasn’t planted his flag on that hill yet, so he’s surprised but delighted when they say goodnight and head off together. Even if they just stay up all night talking, Dean figures they have a lot to process after their torture fest afternoon. Sam and Dean will talk tomorrow, in the bunker, after they’ve had time to process the day’s events. 

“So…” Castiel says in a low voice, and Dean whips his head around. Sam and Eileen sharing a room means…

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Dean grumbles roughly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “After you.”

The room inside is dingy, two full-sized beds with thin comforters and questionable stains marking the carpet. Dean had been exhausted in the Impala, mentally and physically, but now he’s wide awake again. He’s alone with Cas for the first time in a while, alone in a way that normally would only leave him slightly nervous or flustered. But after reexperiening that hand job Cas had given him years ago in Purgatory, in such vivid detail, Dean’s been ringing with a low hum of arousal for hours. Driving alone together to rescue Sam and Eileen had been agonizing enough. The prayer was a good start, but things between them aren’t back to normal yet. 

Especially since “normal” usually included a manageable amount of sexual tension, not off-the-chart levels—and the whole ride to the casino he couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Cas’ hands wrapped around him, their lips pushed against each other. Anytime he thought about his worry for Sam his boner would begin to flag, thank fuck, because the only thing worse than playing a stream of sexual fantasies in his head with Cas involved was being _right beside Cas_ while they occurred. 

Despite how utterly fucked everything is, he’s so relieved that they’re all alive, that they’ve made it this far. He can’t believe how lucky he is to have a second chance with Cas—second, third, fourth, fifth, whatever number it is now, he wants to make it count. He has no intention of not showing Cas just how much he means to him, of burying his feelings again. With Chuck at the helm of their story and no way to kill or trap him, admitting his feelings for his best friend seems small in comparison.

“Aren’t you tired?” Castiel asks, placing a light hand on Dean’s shoulder. He nearly jumps off the bed, skittish when he realizes just how close Castiel is standing. 

“Oh, um…” Dean stares at Cas’ hand on his shoulder, still planted there—unmoving. “Not really.”

They stare at each other for a moment, eyes locked together in their perpetually heated gaze. 

“Well then,” Castiel begins, so quietly Dean has to lean in, “what should we do now?”

It’s not a particularly suggestive question, but fuck if it doesn’t make the back of Dean’s neck begin to sweat. There’s no way Cas means it like that…right?

“Dean?” Castiel says softly.

“TV,” he croaks out. When Cas tilts his head in that adorable fucking manner he always does, Dean clarifies. “Wanna watch some TV?”

Turns out there’s no remote control, so Dean turns presses the button on the ancient TV set until he finds an old western that’s playing. It’s nearly two in the morning, and Sam’s an early riser—Dean really should be forcing himself to get his standard four hours. But when he lies down flat on one of the beds, watching the TV from a yard or two away, he feels a dip in the mattress beside him. Castiel is there, right next to him. Dean’s heart thuds in his chest…shit, he’s shared beds with Cas before, right? He racks his brain, cataloging every instance. Usually it was because Sam was in the other bed, so apart from a few awkward morning boners, nothing had ever happened between them. Not since Purgatory. 

Castiel settles himself further into the mattress, eyes glued to the TV—almost like he has no freaking clue that him sharing Dean’s bed, instead of claiming his own, is making a whole stream of dirty thoughts roll through Dean’s mind. He tries to breathe through it, but every inch of his skin feels static with energy. Their fingers are so close to touching, their thighs pressed together. The sight of their socked feet brushing each other feels domestic as hell, and his heart yearns to close any remaining distance between them, to shower Castiel in the sort of love that he deserves. 

“Isn’t this one of your favorites?” Castiel whispers beside him. Dean looks at the screen and then shuffles on his pillow, craning his neck to look at Cas in the glowing light. The angel’s eyes meet his instantly and Dean feels like the air has been sucked out of the room.

“Never seen it,” he admits, willing himself to look anywhere but Cas’ lips. 

“Hmm,” Castiel says thoughtfully. “I thought you’d seen them all.”

Dean chuckles, admiring how smooth and unblemished Cas’ skin is. He must’ve used his grace to clean himself up, because any trace of his half-dozen leviathan fights has been wiped away. 

“There’s no way to see every Western ever made,” Dean says lightly. “They barely make ‘em anymore, but there’s such a backlist…I’d never get through them all.”

“Perhaps we could do that when we return to the bunker,” Castiel says, every word measured carefully as he speaks. Dean’s only a little ashamed that the thought of a cowboy movie binge with Cas makes his cock give a little stir, because shit, combining his two favorite things just might make him implode. 

“Yeah,” Dean says gently, feeling like this is a big deal somehow—this offer from Cas shows that their friendship really is back on-track. “If we’re not too busy getting on all-fours for Chuck, then yeah, sounds good.”

Castiel’s eyebrows knit together. “All-fours?” Dean’s cheek feel flush, and hopes to not-god that he won’t have to explain that innuendo to Cas. “Oh, you’re referring to a sex position.”

Dean sputters and looks away, the TV suddenly fascinating. “Bingo. Glad to see you enrolled in some sex ed classes, buddy.”

“Why would I need those?” Castiel looks at him, boldly and unblinking. “All of my previous sexual partners have reached completion.”

Dean tries to think quickly of a comeback, but he can’t because his jaw is hanging too close to the ground. The fact that Dean would certainly qualify as one of those “previous sexual partners” makes him wet his lips, butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. 

“I know,” Dean says stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say and because it’s true—for a weird, awkward angel dude, Cas loses every shred of insecurity the minute he’s got his hand wrapped around a cock. In Purgatory his movements had been so sure, so strong and confident, that Dean had been happy to simply lie there and let himself get pulled apart. But he wants to make Cas feel good too, he wants to kiss his neck and suck on his nipples and settle between his legs until his tongue reaches Cas’ hard cock—

“I–Dean, I…” Castiel’s eyelids flutter closed, his breathing labored. He doesn’t even look at Dean as he mutters, “Excuse me,” and rising from the bed, retreats into the bathroom and shuts the door with a soft click behind him. 

“Fuck,” Dean mutters, looking at the closed door. What did he do now? He sorta thought Cas might’ve been flirting with him for a second there—laying beside him in bed and discussing sex so openly—but maybe he doesn’t even think of Dean in that way anymore. It wouldn’t be all that surprising…it’s been what, seven, eight years since Purgatory? They’ve have dozens of moments since then when Dean wondered if something else might transpire between them, but the world was always ending or Sam was in danger or they were in a petty fight for no good reason. He’s lost his chance with Cas, and the knowledge hits him like a sucker punch to the stomach. 

He props himself up on his elbows, trying to hear what Cas is doing in the bathroom. It’s not as if Cas _has_ to go…right? Angel anatomy is weird, but Dean’s pretty sure this bathroom visit is a voluntary thing for Cas. He hears a grunt from the other side of the door, and another idea occurs to Dean—what if he’s hurt somehow? Cas cleaned himself up after Purgatory, but what if Chuck did something to him at the casino? Who knows, maybe he’s zapped himself in the room and is beating Cas to a bloody pulp right now, simply because he knows what Cas means to Dean and the last thing he wants Dean to be is happy. 

He jumps off the bed in panic and turns off the TV. The closer he gets, the more he hears it—heavy breathing, indinstinct moans. _Fuck._

“Cas! You okay?” he shouts, fear seeping into his every word. He just got Cas back, he can’t…he can’t even fathom losing him again. 

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice is weirdly muffled, sounding a register lower than usual, like he’s just been punched. Dean can’t handle it anymore—he twists the doorknob and flings the door back, imagining some horrible wound Cas somehow concealed from him. 

Instead, he finds Cas’ trousers and boxers pushed down, pooling at his ankles. His hand is wrapped around his thick cock, the tip glistening with precome, and he’s right in the middle of stroking himself in front of the mirror. 

“Shit,” Dean whispers, swallowing hard at the sight. His blood is pumping so fast, he hears a ringing in his ears. He’s never had his hands on Cas before, not even that night in Purgatory, and seeing him like this makes Dean’s eyes widen and a palm push reflectively against his own erection. 

He takes a step closer, eyes locked with Castiel’s in a heated exchange. Castiel isn’t stroking himself anymore, but he also hasn’t hidden himself from Dean or acted embarrassed. So Dean takes a deep breath, realizing he sounds breathy and wrecked and not caring one bit as he says, “Need some help with that?”

Castiel gives a small huff, his eyelashes fluttering as he breathes deep. “You don’t…” He exhales, seems to regain some of his resolve, and says in a stronger voice, “Yes. If you’re offering, Dean, then yes. Please— _yes_.”

The words send a surge of confidence in Dean’s movements, and he takes a large and leaping step forward, pushing Castiel against the wall with more force than he meant to. Their bodies collide until they’re chest to chest, and they circle each other’s lips for a moment before Dean surges forward, kissing the breath out of him. Cas is already so turned on that he moans against Dean’s lips from a simple, closed-mouthed kiss, and it’s so fucking sexy watching Cas be so…human. Dean deepens the kiss instantly, slipping his tongue between Cas’ parted lips, and his own erection rubs against Cas’ thigh with delicious friction. He reaches his hand down, tenderly touching Castiel’s wrist along the way, and then he strokes the angel’s erection with a tight fist. 

“Oh, oh…Dean…” Castiel’s head bangs against the wall, as if he’s in complete and utter ecstasy. But Dean is just getting started, and his hands slip up Castiel’s hips as he pulls away from Cas’ urgent kisses and sinks to the floor. His knees hit the tile and suddenly his mouth is inches away from Castiel’s erection, all pink and wet and enticing as fuck.

Dean looks up at him, eyes full of heat and want and mischief. “May I?” he asks, hoping that Cas will get what he’s referencing—that he’s been thinking nonstop about their first time in Purgatory, when Cas asked that same question before blowing Dean’s mind. If the spirited gleam in Castiel’s gaze is any indication, he knows exactly what Dean is doing. He wets his lips and nods, just like Dean did years ago, too overcome to speak.

And then Dean licks curiously against the head of Castiel’s cock. He’s never given a blowjob before, despite daydreaming about doing all manor of sexy things with Cas for over a decade. It feels incredible to finally give in to everything he’s wanted, to let himself have this—have _Cas_ —because who knows how much longer they’ll have before Chuck decides to write his ending? He’s tired of suppressing the things he wants most, the things he dreams about, so he takes a deep breath and fills his mouth with as much of Castiel’s cock as his throat can manage. He coughs a little, wondering in a sort of daze how other people do this so easily…but the sounds Castiel makes above him distract him from any other things. Because good fucking god, the way the angel _moans_ , as if the wet tight heat of Dean’s mouth is sin personified. It’s making Dean’s head spin. 

It occurs to him that he’s blowing Cas right in front of a mirror, so he pulls off and grins wickedly, then grumbles, “Watch yourself, Cas. Watch yourself while I take you apart.” 

Castiel moans without a shred of shame, gluing his eyes to his own reflection—including Dean on his knees with his mouth wrapped around Cas’ cock. _Jesus Christ_ , why haven’t they been doing this for ages? Why did it take so long for Dean to get his head out of his ass?

He tries to make up for it now by giving Cas a mindblowing orgasm. He sucks fiercely as his mouth tightens around the intrusion, his tongue finding a pulsing vein at the underside of Castiel’s cock and lapping around it. Castiel’s hands find his hair, long fingers threading through and tightening, and Dean growls around the dick in his mouth to show how _goddamn hot_ this whole thing is. He continues experimenting, licking and kissing Cas’ cock when he runs out of air, then swallowing it down again with renewed vigor. He wonders if Cas would like it as much as he does when fingertips gently stroke his balls, so he reaches a hand up and searches for them shyly, as if Cas’ dick isn’t already stuffing his mouth full. He lets his fingertips graze the sensitive skin there, rolling them around his palm as his mouth sucks impossibly harder, and then he hears, “Ohhhhh, oh Dean!” and he’s coughing, choking, come suddenly rolling out of the corners of his mouth. 

“Are you okay?” Castiel asks, looking concerned as his hands wander to Dean’s face. “I’m sorry. I believe proper etiquette means I should’ve warned you before…”

“Before coming in my mouth?” Dean licks his lips and chuckles, the pad of Cas’ thumb worrying his bottom lip in a way that’s immensely sensual. His tongue brushes almost absently against Castiel’s thumb, but it sends a spark of adrenaline through him. Shit, he’s so into Cas, it’s almost embarrassing.

“S’okay, Cas. Doesn’t taste as bad as I thought it would be,” Dean says softly, proving the point when he takes Cas’ softening dick back into his mouth and cleans up the remaining come. Castiel lets out little cries the moment the motion becomes too sensitive, and Dean pulls away again, his mouth sloppy with come and spit. He licks his lips, hoping to clean himself up before Cas sees him like this, but his angel is pulling him up by the collar and dragging him to his feet. Their lips crash together at the same instant that Castiel’s arms begin to haul Dean backwards and out of the bathroom, kissing and walking clumsily towards the bed. Dean hits the mattress and immediately feels Cas’ weight on him, a mouth on his neck and chin, and he buzzes with pleasure that this isn’t over just because Cas has gotten off. 

“Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been, being around you today?” Castiel says breathlessly, hands moving quickly to unbutton Dean’s flannel. He tears it from Dean’s shoulders and tosses it to the ground, touching his forearms like they’re unexplored territory. Dean remembers a claim being put on him there, the exact spot where Castiel holds him and leans close. “The…the longing you’ve sent me…the desire…”

Dean sits up on his elbows, eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “What now?”

“Prayer,” Castiel says simply. He sits back momentarily, staring at Dean’s remaining layers of clothing like they’re personal challenges designed to torture him, and then touches two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Dean blinks, and when he opens his eyes again, both him and Castiel are completely naked.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, looking at the sight of Cas’ body like he typically eyes a good buffet. “Did you really just use your mojo to take our clothes off?”

“Yes, and I think it was a very good use of grace…don’t you?” He kisses Dean’s collarbones, his chest, before settling on his nipples and scraping his teeth against the sensitive bud. Dean’s hips buck up, his back arching off the bed. 

“Interesting. You wanted to do this to me, but you seem incredibly susceptible to it,” Castiel whispers evenly, his mouth continuing to lick at Dean’s nipples as his hand begins to wander southward. 

“I…uh…” Dean can hardly think straight right now—he’s laid out in his goddamn birthday suit with his best friend above him, taking him apart casually and looking fucking gorgeous doing it. There’s no point in denying that Dean _was_ thinking about that earlier, when they were watching TV, so he mutters, “How did you know?”

“Your desire for me was so deep, and our bond is so profound, that I…I couldn’t help it. Your soul was reaching out for me.” Castiel pulls away, looking a little guilty now. “Are you angry?”

Dean thinks on it for a moment—is he? He has questions, sure, like knowing exactly how long Cas has known he’s wanted to jump his best friend’s bones. But that seems almost silly now, since they’ve finally gotten to this point, so he shakes his head, hand reaching up to Cas’ face and dragging him down into a filthy kiss. They’ll talk about it later, but for now, Dean’s all about trying to get Castiel’s hands back on him.

They tumble around in bed, legs tangled and kissing desperately, and it lasts so long that Dean loses track of time. Everything becomes pure sensation, boiled down to his groin, his lips, his hands. He gets lost in it, in all things _Cas_ , and it’s only when Castiel whispers something in his ear that he blinks back into consciousness. 

“Hmm?” he slurs, already imagining this conversation is over so they can kiss again. 

“I said, I would like you to penetrate me, please, if you’d like.” 

Dean pulls away and searches Cas’ face, his own brain short-circuiting. “You–you want me to fuck you?”

“I would. And I would be interested in returning the favor at a later date, but I realize this is your first time with a man, so I’m more than willing to be on the receiving end.” Castiel’s tone is smooth and straightforward, as if they’re discussing who’s gonna ride shotgun in Baby that day. Not, you know, _getting_ _fucked_. 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean says, feeling a chuckle rise to his lips because this whole thing is so goddamn ridiculous—in what world does he get to have this? He thinks about what Cas said— _your first time with a man_ —and while it’s true, part of Dean has barely registered that fact. This isn’t just some guy, this is his fierce and goofy and sexy and adorable angel. He doesn’t necessarily want to test this theory because Castiel is hot as hell, but he knows he would’ve fallen for Cas regardless of the vessel he took. “I, um…yeah. Hell yeah.”

Castiel smiles, so blinding and pure that Dean can’t help but match it. And then Castiel is touching Dean’s cock and he moans, remembering that he’s been hard for fucking ever at this point. Cas straddles him, widening his hips and sinking down, and it occurs to Dean belatedly that Castiel intends to ride him. _Oh my fucking god, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

“N-No, Cas, you’re gonna be way too tight man,” he protests, hands on Castiel’s hips in an attempt to halt him. “You gotta let me prep you. We need…fuck, we need lube.”

“I require no prep,” Castiel says breezily, squeezing on Dean’s dick again as the head drags across Castiel’s asscrack. _Jesus Christ._

“Yes you do, or I’ll hurt you,” Dean insists, but his protests are abandoned the moment he feels an insanely tight, unyielding heat surround his cockhead. Good god, did Cas really just put the tip in without as much as a warning? Dean falls against the mattress again, the effort to keep himself upright making him shake, and he cries out the lower and lower Castiel falls. He bottoms out swiftly and Dean’s eyes are screwed shut, every muscle in his body taunt, trying his damndest not to immediately come. 

Dean opens his eyes, mouth hanging open. Cas is impaled on his dick, breathing heavy with pupils blown wide, his cock half-hard again. “How are you…?” 

“Grace,” Castiel breathes, and the metaphorical lightbulb comes on over Dean’s head—of course. Cas just mojo’d himself. There are perks to falling in love with an angel. 

“So you feel okay?” he asks, just to be sure. 

“I’m very okay,” Castiel says with a smirk. “And I’m going to make you feel very, very okay.”

He rises his hips, sliding up Dean’s cock, and when he slides back down again, Dean’s shaft is slippery with lubrication. 

“Oh, goddamn…” Dean whimpers, the sight of his dick disappearing inside of Cas too much to process right now. He wonders if Cas feels full, feels split open. He looks majestically wild and untamed from this angle, one hand on Dean’s chest as he pushes him down into the mattress and fucks himself on Dean’s cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s so hot,” he mumbles, face burning red. Even as a top, he’s being manhandled and dominated, and no part of that bothers Dean in the slightest. It’s as if Cas knows his every secret sexual urge and desire, and he grinds his hips down and rises and falls, rises and falls, over and over again. Dean’s forehead is sweaty, his hands are grasping Cas’ sides and thighs, the most ludicrous whining sounds and deep-seated moans are falling from his lips. He’s so turned on, it feels like his cock could spark electricity. 

There’s a heaviness building in his balls that makes him cry out, and he says, “Cas, Cas, I need you to find your prostate baby. C’mon, move around until it feels good, really good…” 

Castiel puts his hands on either side of him on the mattress, giving himself more leverage as he uses Dean’s cock. Dean helps him by circling his hands on Cas’ waist, keeping him firmly planted. The moment Dean’s cockhead brushes that special nub, a bundle of nerve endings gathered around a secret spot, Castiel’s hole tightens on Dean’s cock. 

“Shit!” Dean cries, feeling on the verge of an insane orgasm, but trying to stave it off long enough for Cas. 

“Oh, Dean…oh, oh, _ohhhh_ …” Castiel doubles his effort, head flung back, mouth open as his back arches. “Dean, it’s–it’s too much, I can’t—”

“Let go for me, sweetheart,” Dean urges, hands gripping Cas’ thighs so forcefully he hopes they don’t bruise. “Come for me, Cas.”

It’s a beautiful thing to watch. Cas’ second orgasm of the night shoots come all over his stomach, the sounds practically hedonistic as his hole clenches tight, tight, tighter on Dean’s cock. And then without warning Dean is coming too, filling Cas up completely. His gaze turns blurry as he comes, his entire world centered around this one feeling, this sensation, this act of love that he feels pounding in the chest. 

He loves Cas. He is in love with Cas. 

And it’s about time his angel knew it.

***

_Love._

Cas feels so much love pouring from Dean’s soul that he has to choke back a sob. He’s never experienced anything so beautiful in his life. He’s lying chest to chest with Dean, his come acting as the paste that’s gluing them together. There’s a tightness in his hips that lets him know he’s going to be sore tomorrow, and though he has enough grace to evaporate the fatigued muscles, he leaves them be. He wants to feel Dean everytime he shifts in his seat on the ride home, and the slight burn it will cause when he climbs the stairs will remind him that this is real. Dean loves him and they had sex, and he’s never coming back from that. With how much the other man has revealed to him today, he imagines Dean feels the same. 

It occurs to him that he should ask Dean if this was a one time thing. He knows it isn’t a talk that would be well-received, and it’s not like he’s rushing to figure things out—he just wants to know if it’s okay to doze off, or if he needs to stay awake and revel in the moment for as long as Dean will allow. He doesn’t need the sleep, but it’s something he’s dreamed about, being the partner that gets to lay in bed drowsy and satisfied with Dean curled up next to him. 

“Uh, Cas,” Dean says hesitantly. 

“Hmm?”

“I can’t feel my legs, can you ah—” Dean stroks a soothing hand down his back. The small gesture calms him, and his uncertainty settles. There’s no big emotional moment, and he realizes now he’d been prepared for one. He half-expected Dean to yell at him to _stop, get out, stay in his own lane,_ but instead he shifted his hips slightly, and rolled them over before Cas could climb off. 

Dean’s softening cock slips out of him and he feels an instant emptiness. There’s the physical lack of space being taken up inside of him, but he misses the connection they felt most of all. It seems now that Dean’s needs have been satiated, his prayers are calming down. The poor man had been in such desperate need he couldn’t seem to control his thoughts. Cas can’t imagine Dean was projecting on purpose, but the idea of it thrills him. It makes a kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt in Castiel’s stomach. Excitement, love, and arousal all mingling together inside of him. A goofy grin breaks out across his face, and he starts to chuckle. 

It isn’t the ideal time to have a giggle fit. The world is ending, semen’s leaking out of his rear end, and the love of his life is looking at him like he might have to take him back to the psych ward. And isn’t that fitting, since Purgatory and Cas going crazy seemed to go hand in hand. Maybe it _is_ time to go hysterical. 

“What the hell, man?” Dean asks as he starts to pull away, but Cas wraps his arms tighter around the other man and presses a kiss to his forehead. He shifts them around until Dean is pressed up against his chest, and he suddenly feels gross. The come on their stomachs has started to coagulate and he needs to clean them up sooner rather than later. A shower sounds like a good idea, but he’s too shy to ask Dean to join him, and he isn’t about to sacrifice any time away from him now that they’re together. That only leaves one option, so he closes his eyes and lets his grace trickle through Dean. He could have easily wiped them clean in a single swift movement, but instead he lets his _mojo,_ as Dean liked to call it, rush all through the other man. He hopes it feels sensual, that it will leave Dean wanting for more. Even though they just finished, Cas openly believes that was only the first round of many. 

“This isn’t distracting me you know,” Dean says with a dopey grin. “Thanks for the clean up, but I still want to know what’s so damn funny. You’re gonna give a guy a complex here.” 

Cas’ pulse races as Dean nuzzles into his neck, getting himself comfortable like he’s planning on staying there awhile—all night, maybe. 

“I was just thinking about the ride up here. To get Sam, I mean. I kept getting flashes from you. They weren’t complete prayers, but like I said, your desire was so strong that my grace picked up on it. I received it like a prayer.” He starts trailing his fingers down Dean’s back, hoping to soothe him to sleep. It might be a bit tricky, but if Cas lulls him to sleep that just means whatever this is will last a little longer. 

“Fuck, that’s embarrassing. What all did you see?” Dean pushes his face deeper into Cas’ neck, and he can imagine the other man trying to burying himself to escape the humiliation he’s feeling. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, Dean. It was rather tantalized. An awful tease, I’ll admit, but I think I like that.” 

Dean snorts. “You like to be teased? I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” 

_Next time? There’s going to be a next time?_ Cas is too busy playing those words over and over again in his mind to notice Dean stiffen in his arms. 

“I mean—I didn’t mean to assume, I just hoped—” Dean trails off. 

Cas leans back and drops his forehead down to Dean, before pushes a sweet kiss against his lips. It’s nothing like the kisses they shared earlier, or their first kiss in Purgatory. It’s a simple press of lips, unhurried, as if a million more were to follow. He pulls back and rests his head back against his pillow, letting Dean resettle and bury his nose against his throat. 

“You know what I saw today?” He waits for an answer, but Dean just shakes his head and that’s good enough for him. At least he isn’t shutting down completely. 

“I saw me on my knees in front of you in the shower. Your head was thrown back and you were gripping my hair so tight I could feel it tingling from where I sat in the passenger seat. You stopped praying right before you finished, and I thought I was going to scream because I wanted you so bad. I wanted to see what you looked like when you climaxed, needed to see your face go slack as pleasure washed over you.” Dean is wiggling against him and Cas wonders if he’s already getting hard again. He’s not sure if that’s even possible with how hard they both just came, but arousal is flowing through him and he can’t stop. Everything he saw today had him keyed up, and if Dean is willing, he’s sure they have another round in them. 

“Then after we stopped for gas you imagined me following you into the bathroom and slamming you against the wall. Fifty miles later I was laying across the seat going down on you as we pulled into town.” His voice has turned breathy and he wonders if Dean notices. He hasn’t said anything, but Cas thinks he can feel something pushing into his hip, not quite hard, but making itself known all the same. 

“Was it—I mean, did you like what you saw?” Dean asks timidly, and just as Cas hoped, he’s equally as breathless. 

“Did I like what I saw? Surely you made the connection of how we made love tonight to one of your fantasies. Dean, when I saw the way you looked up at me, like I was something your were proud of… It was intoxicating to see you like that, writhing against the mattress, knowing I’m the one making you look utterly debauched. I’ve seen the creation of everything this planet has to offer, and I have never seen anything more beautiful than what you showed me today.”

Cas slides his hand down the other man’s back down to his ass, using his palm to pull him closer. Remembering everything Dean imagined today has Cas hard and wanting seconds. And from the way Dean moans as he bucks forward, it seems they’re on the same page. 

“Fuck, Cas. I think about you like that so often, I don’t even remember everything I thought about today.” Rolling his hips forward, Dean lets out a soft gasp as his growing erection brushes against his partner. 

“Dean,” Cas whispers. He’s not even sure what he wanted to say. He wants to tell Dean he loves him, and somehow he feels brave enough to do just that. 

He tangles his feet around Dean’s and shifts his hips around until their erections are brushing up against each other. It takes a calculated effort, and maybe a little mojo, but soon enough their cocks are sliding together smooth with just enough lubrication. If Dean’s love truly is making his grace stronger, it seems fitting to use his power to help them express their love physically. 

He pushes forward, gliding his own length along Dean’s shaft. Both men cry out as pleasure rushes between them. Dean bites down on his collarbone and gasps out a broken, “fuck.” 

Tendrils of pleasure are swirling through his limbs and he can’t hold back any longer, he has to tell Dean how he feels. It might be the most corny thing he’s ever done, but he wants to time this well enough to be whispering how much he loves Dean right as he comes. 

“Dean, now I have something to say.” He’s gripping tighter at Dean’s ass, and by the way he groans and pushes back against Cas’ hand, he knows he’s not the only one enjoying it. 

“Cas, you don’t—ah ah!” Dean digs his nails into Cas’ hip. He’s pulling the angel closer and grinding their cocks together, creating the perfect friction. Dean rocks forward, stroking Cas’ cock with his own and slides back, shifting his hips as if he is trying to line his hole up with the fingers Cas is currently digging into his cheeks. And maybe he is—maybe Dean wants to have Cas against his most sensitive area. That image cropped up a few times throughout the day, so it wasn’t out of the question. 

“Yes I do. You deserve to know how loved you are, Dean.” He releases his hold on the other man’s ass and brings his middle finger to his lips. He waits until Dean’s eyes are on him before swirling his tongue around the finger, drawing it into his mouth to make sure it gets soaking wet. 

He slowly slides the finger past his lips and makes his way back to Dean’s backside. As soon as his wet digit touches Dean’s hole, he gasps and pushes back _hard_ against Cas’ hand. 

“Oh fuck, Cas,” Dean cries. 

“I love you. I know it’s hard for you to say it out loud.” Cas thrusts forward, his third orgasm of the night coming far too quickly for what he’s trying to pull off. Dean is clawing at his back and whining low in his throat, and the angel is sure he’s not the only one close to the edge so he pesses on, hoping Dean’s right there with him. 

“And though I do want to hear it out loud, not just in a vague prayer, you do not have to say it back to me, Dean. I just need you to know that I love you.” 

“Cas, I—” a broken cry falls from Dean’s lips and Cas feels warmth coating his length as Dean rides out his orgasm. The feel of the other man’s cock pulsing against him mixed with the smooth slide of hot come pushes Cas to his own climax. He cries out Dean’s name as tingles run up his spine and the rest of his body locks. 

It takes several long moments for their breathing to regulate and the fog to clear from their minds. It didn’t seem like it was possible for a human to have two powerful orgasms so close together, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing that’s happened to them today, so Cas lets it slide. Dean is warm and pliant next to him, and he wants to spend the rest of eternity in this dingy hotel room. 

“I love you too, you know?” Dean says. It’s not strained or forced like Cas had imagined it would be. It’s soft and sweet, and best of all—true. He did know, but hearing Dean finally say it makes Cas feel like he’s glowing…he might be for all he knows. His hunter is laying in his arms, shuffling and sliding while trying to get comfortable, and nothing in his life has ever been better. 

He suspects that tomorrow he will have to tell Dean about his deal with the Empty. With Jack dead and Chuck going rogue, he’s not sure he could ever feel the happiness the entity implied, but he wants to make sure Dean knows what he’s risking. He needs to tell him that even though he can’t promise to never leave again, he can vow to always come back. 

Because nothing, not even God, can stop a Winchester.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, but like…how badly do you wish that _was_ the real ending? *sobs*
> 
> Be sure to comment, and subscribe to see what else we have cookin'!


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